Unrequited
by jarethsdragon
Summary: OC What if your love was unrequited?


Disclaimer: I still don't own anything. If I did own Jareth, do you really think that I would be spending my time just writing about him?

Unrequited

The Goblin King was magnificent in his fury.

Womm watched him with the baby—the latest in a string of acquisitions. This one—What was his name? Tommy? Toby? Timmy? —was Jareth in miniature with golden hair in wild disarray and sparkling blue eyes. She almost envied the baby—who had become the apple of Jareth's eye in the short 10 hours or so he had been there. Jareth had been playing with him the entire time. He had even sung for him.

Womm would have turned greener than her natural olive with envy if she had actually been jealous. If she had coveted Jareth's attention and spoiling, then she would have been distraught. Or perhaps hysterically furious herself. She might have even attempted to remove the baby from the castle or some such other foolery to get his attention.

Not that Womm had such illusions of her own wit and ability. She was just an ugly, scabby goblin. She barely came up to His Majesty's belt buckle at her full height. Even in her nicest dress, with her pretty shoes on, she was still just a goblin. She still was kind of a muddy olive green with lank black hair and eyes the color of a field mouse. Even as a wished-away child, she had been plain at best—plodding through her lessons at the pace of a turtle. As a goblin, she was okay but not pretty by goblin standards.

At least she didn't look like that old hag-goblin Gerindle.

Jareth had been nice enough to her during her first few days as a goblin—taking care of her wardrobe and giving her a place taking care of his boots and working in the kitchen. Of course, someone else had called to him and wished away another baby, so he had taken his leave of the castle to set up another challenge. When he had returned to await the new challenger, she had faded into the background of wriggling brown and green and grey skinned goblins. Now he barely knew her—scarcely spoke to her personally.

She forgave him, though. He had over 100 goblins tending his apartments (except for his study and his bedroom) and in her simplicity, she didn't expect him to remember her specifically.

Womm picked up the next boot to be polished, watching the goblins scamper to and fro as they tried to mount a defense around the castle. Of course, they were only goblins—more used to playing simple games and with simple toys rather than defending against serious assaults—or the pseudo-serious assaults that challengers mounted. Most of them were selected for this function out of their desire to play pirates or cowboys and Indians or Cops and Robbers or something, rather than skill. So it was hardly a surprise when challengers who made it out of the Labyrinth made it to the castle. She was a rather serious, quiet goblin herself—far more suited to duties and responsibilities in the castle itself. She supposed that at some point she could leave and set herself up in the goblin city. Perhaps even marry some other goblin.

But she knew that she wouldn't do that. She would stay at the castle just for the possibility that she might see him the next day. That was enough—just to see him as he paced by or to hear some echo of his laugh down the long stone hallways.

She knew she loved him too much to go. Just like she knew he would never love her back.

Ignoring the tiny tear trickling down one cheek, Womm pointedly stared at the boot that she was polishing, smudging more blacking on the toe and beginning the tedious process of rubbing it into the leather. She could hear rumbling of rock—like the landslide that had taken her parent's lives before she went to live with her Aunt Nadine and Cousin Victoria-Mae. Victoria-Mae—the blue-eyed, blonde apple of Aunt Nadine's eye—had never seen the castle, since she had stayed outside the Labyrinth in the gardens weaving flowers into a crown and pulling the wings of the fairies off. Jareth had been furious as he watched her wander around the gardens with her daisy crown and iris stem scepter—pretending to be a queen—and finally called off the Labyrinth challenge. Victoria-Mae had shrugged and was more upset about losing her crown and pile of fairy wings than the fact that her cousin was now a goblin.

Womm spit on the boot, re-folding the cloth to start buffing the leather. She could hear His Majesty bellowing orders from his tower window. The rumblings and rockslide sounds faded slightly. Womm had been frightened the first time the rock-caller had come to town. The crashing rock brought back her nightmare terrors of when her parents had died. The Goblin King had listened to her cries and pleas for safety and had installed her in this room—setting her up a table and stool to polish her boots. Even though it was technically a tower room, it was an interior one with only one tiny window high on the wall. The rumblings of boulders—some many times her weight—softened to a dull thunder and the floor remained largely still except for the occasional fluttery vibration.

So now, whenever the King perched in his high tower to watch over the city, he would pass by her little room. Just a few seconds of his glittering presence before he vanished again. Once, Womm had wanted to follow him, but at the first sight of the King flying around the first platform of the staircase room, she had cringed back in bewilderment. A few of the other goblins said it was a sign for any Underground companions to leave the Challenger alone, because they had to face the Goblin King alone.

That befuddled Womm. Why should the Challenger have to face the Goblin King alone? Why should the companions abandon the Challenger? She had heard "that's the way it's done" in reply, but she was still perplexed. Of course, many things in this place perplexed her. Why was this called "Underground" when it plainly had a sky and stars and a moon and didn't seem to be under any ground? Why didn't Jareth banish or disenchant or whatever the wretched Bog of Eternal Stench? Why was the challenger given 13 hours and then put right by an immediate path that allowed the Labyrinth to be solved in less than 2? And what did the whole 13-hour business matter anyway since the sun rose and set approximately whenever Jareth wanted it to?

All questions with no answer.

So Womm pondered them in silence, content to polish the boots. It was amusing to come up with little stories or explanations. It didn't matter if they were right or not. It passed the time until she saw Jareth again.

A pale shadow strode past the open doorway. Womm glanced up for a moment, watching the woman go by. She was lovely—pale skin the translucent pink of a spring rose, darting eyes like bluebells, hair like rich chocolate falling in shiny waves around her shoulders, and a lovely height and proud bearing. She glanced in the tiny room—almost dismissing Womm entirely, but caught herself and smiled softly at Womm.

Womm shivered, watching the woman. She had been fairly old herself when she had come to the Labyrinth—a ripe age of nine and a half when most goblins were wished away as infants or toddlers—but this girl was almost fully grown with the lush beauty of youth glowing around her.

"Where is the Goblin King?" her eyes asked, although she said nothing.

Womm swallowed heavily and pointed up the stairs.

The woman nodded and smiled again and began climbing the twisting stone steps.

Womm turned back to her polishing. So this was the Challenger. No wonder he was in such a froth—so determined to win this game in particular. No wonder his eyes were twinkling and merry even as he switched between frustration at her success and cheering for her.

He loved her.

Womm studied her black-stained hands as she heard the final faint echoes of footsteps, thinking about this. Jareth was in love. He was in love with this human girl. How did she feel about that?

Simply put, he would be happy with her.

Womm sat down the boot. He would smile more. He might laugh more. She smiled, feeling a bit of warmth steal around her. She traced a vague heart shape in the blacked boot. So, if he was happier with this girl—if he loved her. Then she'd be happy for them both.

Her love deserved nothing less than that.


End file.
